Ghost
by Calamity Red
Summary: The ghost of lingering thoughts, the scars that would never heal, and the things we wish we could forget. /Pre-chapter 49
1. Hour I

He didn't waver under the sudden impact of ice water. Everything felt so dead and finite now, everything torn down to the primitive level. A cough escaped his frozen blue lips giving rise to the taste of metal and concrete. Trickles of the ice water ran the same routes across his boney body.

'_Shit.'_

Failure felt like this, failure to save people. The scene ran over repeatedly to add salt to his mental wounds.

…

_-"You've accumulated too much 'baggage' here. It's time to lighten you load."-_

Flashes came and death followed. His eyes blanked out and mind scrambled into an accumulation of malice.

The black dog inside him howled with childish delight in such carnage.

The rest became a blur of sirens and screaming.

Then the touch of a dainty hand awoke him from his personal limbo. Her face was dirty with powdered concrete and hair limp from sweat. Between her breaths she spoke, "_It's already over_."

…

No, it was never over here. People never got a chance to live in complete peace here, the forces that be made sure to remind people of that. The foreboding shadow it cast was a constant reminder of things lost and things better forgotten.

His hand reached out toward the dial turning it toward hot. The water remained cold as ever as it continued running in its systematic pattern. He was shirtless and barefooted yet hadn't taken his pants off before entering the shower room. The weight of soaked cloth tugged at his waist and legs but he paid no heed to it. Outstretched before his red orbs were his hands with nails filed down and colored in that failure reddish-brown stain.

After the chaos he attempted to help dig for any survivors leading to his worn and bloodied hands.

It proved fruitless.

He slammed his back against the adjacent shower wall of the church. He never bothered asking why there was such a thing built inside this church and assumed the Bishop had some lucrative reasoning for it.

At that moment the door slid open to reveal her. The woman he held envy toward was standing there with eyes that foretold of many emotions. She still was wearing that worn coat, now farther riddled with cuts, and a short skirt. The moment was too tense to his liking with neither of them speaking but instead playing their cards by staring.

-But the usual glares they once shot to each other were but forgotten and replaced by sympathy. War games were not to be played now and unspoken treaties had been signed to be so. She walked into the pouring cold droplets and sat at a remotely comfortable distance from him. He followed suit and slid down to a seated position still keeping small eye contact.

The water keep running and cleaning of the immediate stains of fighting.

Black and brown muddled together as the dirt whirled toward the shower's center drain. There was silence between them, silence was all there ever was between them. Time didn't hasten nor did it slow its gradual pace, time simply felt as if it didn't exist here.

She sat with her knees clasp to her chest and partially hidden eyes focused on the drain before them. Porcelain was not how he would describe her skin, porcelain was weak and breakable, and she wasn't. Inner strength that she held, something he would admit he had no true grasp of, was not a property of porcelain.

Then as a whisper, not brash and affronted as he treated all other things, he spoke. He wanted to know why she entered, why she followed, he just wanted to know the why of her actions. The strangeness of uttering her name gartered surprise on his expression. Not too often had he said her name and never had he spoken it to reach out.

"_Naoto_."

She looked over with strains of her dark hair blocking most of her visibility. Her face was grave as his, through almost softened from her usual strong demeanor. He assumed she too felt weight of failure and the uselessness of one's own actions.

"_Yes_?"

She responded almost mechanically. He took his gaze from her and returned to looking in the direction of the drain before he spoke again.

"_Why_?"

{Author's Notes: I really don't know where this going, consider it a fic exploring the emotions of the character. For once I'm straying from pairing the two and keeping relatively a gen fic, but feel free to see what you will.

All comments/favs/crits are welcomed and thanked.}


	2. Hour II

…

Blackened turned the artificial sky as the unfiltered smoke settled upon the ceiling. Members of Granny Liza's gang had stopped hours ago from shuffling through the rubble searching for any survivors under the smoke covered ceiling. There was heartache among them as many had found their loved and befriended dead.

Voices of worriment and resentment weighted heavy in the air.

Whispers of _whom_ and _why_ became the talk after the grief had subdued.

Then he saw it, the first glare toward him.

The glare only lasted for seconds, but he felt it, that malice and hate toward him. As the day went on, more and more began looking at him with disgust. People were beginning to make connections with him that those who attacked. They began asking amongst themselves if the attack was personal, if he had brought it upon them, if he was one of them.

The help he had given seemed null to those who cast glares. His nails became broken and bloodied after repeated abuse to his gloveless hands while moving concrete blocks. His coat discarded to cover an injured civilian. His shirt stained with the blood of a man he attempted to save.

All his previous actions meant nothing.

He had become the outcast again.

'_Trying to redeem yourself again.'_

A sickening cackle followed from the inner sanctions of his mind.

'_Such an ill way of getting personal gratification.'_

Another laugh as he barked back. He punched to closest wall feeling each bone crack and new wounds break. A single thin line of red began running down the pale wall. It was happening again, that nagging sensation of uselessness to do anything right, and that psychopath always made sure to remind him of it.

…

The run patterns of water altered as he shifted his weight around to gather a direct look at the woman sitting across from him. That impassive look he often held had melted into a face of indifference, a face of curiosity.

In his time above, he had only grown to trust two people with detailing his problems. One was the man who saved him and the other was the girl he saved. It was those who stood by him as he straddled the line between life and eternity that he willing opened up too. Those sudden grazes with death were unfriendly reminders of how human he really was and reminder of everything he would never know.

His soundless guest opened her mouth momentarily letting a few droplets of water catch atop her outward lips. With a gloveless hand he swept back some of her drenched hair while still remaining silent.

He inducted that she would answer something about his importance to her mission or that she worried because Nill worried. They did not have a strong connection in such things, any emotional investment between them was only business. He was a bit taken aback when she finally did speak in a voice that seemed fair shakier then her usual confident laden voice.

"_I…was worried_."

Then it was for Nill's sake that she was here. It came as no surprise considering how close the two were, as sisters if he knew any better. However, her next words did strike him as unexpected.

"_You should not be alone right now_."

"_I usually am_."

"…_but you don't need to be right now, your self destructive tendencies concerns me_."

It was a heavy mental blow to the albino. She was right and he knew it, almost too well. Why else would he spend an hour soaking under frozen water, it was not because he liked it. No, it was punishment, self destruction that he wallowed in to atone for crimes he did not truly commit.

"_Because of Nill_?"

"_No, me_."

"_That's…hard to believe_." He said drawing what little cynicism he has left into the response.

"_Is it_?"

Her reply silenced him. The conversation, if could be called so, went back to stares. There was no spite, only curiosity of the other's actions and reasoning. At last he replied with statement that ignored her question.

"_You're going to catch a cold_."

"_So will you_."

"_Can't_", He answered as he outstretched his hand to turn off the faucet. His motions were slowed from the oncoming numbness of being under the cold. The only thing he could effectively feel was pressure of his grip as he turned to faucet right ending with the screech of pipes. He did not move after do this; his legs would not allow such movement.

She lifted her arms slightly before encompassing herself in a hug to keep warm. Even while bundled in her coat, she still felt the oncoming chill from her drenched clothing. Every few seconds her pale lips would shiver and the albino could not help but notice. She was perhaps just as stubborn as he. When she had said she was not leaving him alone, she meant it.

He stood, still numb in a few places, and began walking out from the shower room. The tingling pains of movement were bothersome, but he was not about to let someone get sick on his part. He had enough guilt to deal with already. His feet practically slid across the wet tiles as he made way out of the room.

"_Where….are you going_?" She mumbled with a sudden shiver.

"_To get you a towel_."

{Author's Notes: So the second chapter took a lot longer to get done then I had at first planned. It was originally going to be from Naoto's POV, but I could not quite get into her perspective despite having my own idea of how she sees things. Forgive the grammar is anything is wrong. I was able to go over it serveal times, but a Beta is usually better about catching things.

A special thanks to Yoru Okami and Unisawr for their well-thought out reviews. It is the lifeblood of the fanfic writer. I hope I was able to answer some of those nagging questions and add a few more.

comments/favs/crits are welcomed and thanked.}


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